


Flare in the Darkness

by WindwiseWords



Series: Clone Culture [11]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Clone Wars, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Order 66
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-06 22:32:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18226277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindwiseWords/pseuds/WindwiseWords
Summary: Plo had no idea the demons that hid in the genetic code of his Wolfpack...





	Flare in the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Whoo did a thing! These guys have been kicking around in my head for some time. Here they are.

“We call ‘em Hounds. H.O.U.N.D units, sir.”

“Why have I never met this unit?”

“Because—” Wolffe heard a crash of plasteel armor against a solid door, and the flash of bicolored eyes marked with the reflective circle of an Anooba flickered past the pair. “That’s why, sir. They wouldn’t listen to you. And you’ve met a few. Hunter, for one.”

Plo felt the hostility and aggression from all sides. He feared little. These men, these vicious beasts of the 104th’s basement freed with their brothers, he feared.

“Why do we go so far into this prison?”

“We’ve got to reach Flare.”

“Flare?”

“CT-HU-0088, sir. You’ll know why when we get there.”

 

No body slam, no feral stalking eyes, nothing happened when Wolffe knocked on the door marked in red letters. ‘FLARE’ it read, boldly, but Wolffe didn’t even don one of the arm guards hanging throughout the halls. The room was small, just a few soldiers lazing in a heap in the corner. These units appeared to come in twos, fours, or sixes. This one was a group of three, however.

Two of them popped up with a flash of metallic-white teeth and a low burbling snarl of threat, moving more fluid that Plo had ever seen Wolffe or any of his brothers move. They were partly animal, mixed with Anooba hound genetics among other things. A failure, but a useful failure in some cases. Put one inside a compromised building, and anything between them and a target would go down. Useful for terrorist attacks, or clearing out enemy forces planetside.

“I mean no harm.” Plo raised both hands, showing is palms.

“Won’t work sir, they’re guarding Flare. The redhead in the blankets. He sleeps like a log.” Wolffe went right past them, taking out a rubber ball and winging it to one side. They watched it bounce, then scrambled over each other to chase the simple toy. It was compulsory from training, a distraction method personalized to each squad to let the Kaminoans have control over their projects.

Flare rubbed an eye and perked, seeing the ball, but as he got up to chase it he was stopped by Wolffe. Each Hound wore a mask, a muzzle that prevented them from getting their teeth into anything or anyone. The gaunt cheek lines of most troopers were replaced with muscle, flattening them out. They also all bore nasty tear marks along the sides of their faces; the muscles were too large and split the skin when opened too far. Their jaws worked brilliantly to chew through most of the droids’ armors, save for heavier units, but they were vicious and unstoppable once set loose.

Dangerous.

Flare finally came out of his sleepy state and snapped to attention. “Commander, sir!” He paused, quizzically examining Plo before taking a step back. Plo could practically see the nonexistent tail whip between his thighs. “G-General.”

“Soldier.” Plo greeted kindly.

“I though the war was over… Don’t take them, sir, take me instead! Leo can’t handle—”

Wolffe cut him off. “Nobody’s being taken anywhere but you three. The war’s over. We have to figure out how to handle your packmates. All of them. And you’re the least likely to turn vicious, given your lack of training and experience.” Wolffe eyed him warily. “This is your general and mine. Hurt him and I’ll have your hide.”

“I wouldn’t dare, sir.” He fidgeted, playing with the strap to his mask thoughtfully. “What about them?”

“They… Won’t hurt anyone either.” Wolffe said with a sigh. “Not with you around, Flare. Come, the lot of you. We’re going to the theater.”

“Yes sir.” The three parroted, and Wolffe handed Plo a simple rifle.

“I do not use blasters.”

“All due respect sir, but you should. It’s a tranq rifle, pre-loaded for these men. You point and shoot for the chest. Just unload. They’ll be fine.” Wolffe shouldered a second and opened the door, the three Hound Units bolting to him. Like pets.

Plo couldn’t help but ask. “Flare, when was the last time you were out of this room?” This prison. With barred windows and just enough space to run laps if they pushed everything to the center. His hatred for the treatment of the clones rose again, but he released it.

Flare had no idea how to speak to THE General. In his head, the alpha. Wolffe always told them he wasn’t truly in charge, but never let Plo know of their existence. “Sir… We have to stay here.” He murmured. “We’d run off. Or bite.”

“They have strong instincts, sir, that overrides even the most harsh training. I bit you a handful of times under duress or chemical-induced hysteria, these ones…” He thumbed as a window they passed, one of the bars of strong metal missing a bite. “So you can see where I was hesitant. But, sir.” He paused, considering things. “General Plo, sir… They deserve rights too.”

Plo startled a bit and nodded urgently. “Of course! They were freed too. We’ll review this protocol of containment for certain and revoke the need to keep them so penned up. No wonder they’re so aggressive. Clones require space to roam and things to keep them occupied.” Plo glanced around the large room, and tsked with disappointment. “No track, no weights?”

“They believed if HUs got too strong they’d break out and run rampant, sir.” One of the larger of the trio by bulk, who came close to sniff the air near them. “Smell like clean stuff.”

“That’s his antiox oils, Psycho. Smell good huh?” Wolffe reached out and ruffled the clone’s hair, then abruptly slung a ball across the room. They instantly took off after it, jostling shoulders for the chance to grab it.

The last of the trio brought it back to him, but he gestured to Plo. Warily, the third gave him the toy. Plo examined it. Just a plain ball of rubber with a small antigrav metric in the center to let it fly farther. A child’s toy. He glanced up and startled to see six expectant eyes digging holes into the object. “That captivating is it?”

“Yes sir.” Flare chirped. “Please, sir…”

Plo chuckled and really threw it, having it bounce around the far corner of the room. They all bolted. “We should get them a device to hurl it for them.”

“We tried a droid, and they kinda killed it, sir.” Wolffe admitted. “They’re trained to go after droids of most kinds. Why your astromech is outside in the ship. Bring it in here and there wouldn’t be much left.” These brothers were a handful, but one was particularly challenging. “Captain Leo is their leader, sir. He does not like Jedi. Never did, really doesn’t now. General, they’re dangerous. But still vode.”

Ah, the special word, Plo thought privately. “Of course. We will see to it they are given a place as well. I am just glad they’ve been hidden on Coruscant and not Kamino. The latter is still a bomb detonating slowly.”

“Kenobi will fix it.” Wolffe murmured, whistling sharply and calling the three back. “Cannibal, leave that alone. You can’t break out of here and live.” The named struck a chord with Plo, who looked to his commander for explanation. “Best ask him.”

The named clone sunk his head. “Sometimes I didn’t always spit, General.”

“When he gets a bite of someone or something alive, he’ll eat it if you don’t watch him.” Psycho growled, smacking the trooper on the back of the head. That got him a snarl in return, and then the two began to fight. Flare bolted behind Plo, a good sign of trust but bad situation.

Wolffe ignored them. “They’ve got to fight it out. Come on. Let’s go see Leo.”

 

Flare refused to get too close to the door that housed the Captain. Leo charged the door several times before Wolffe opened up the center viewing slat to pass food and whatnot. Plo leaned to peek in and tensed. This trooper…

He was chained, wrists bleeding from his efforts, and stripped to his blacks on bottom alone. The mask clearly dug at the thick cheek scars, oozing now from his bite attempts. “Captain Leo?” Plo called, earning a growl that dwarfed an angry Wolffe. “Get a medic.”

“Fuck off!” Leo hissed. “Get away from my boys! Dirty, silver-tongued Jedi—”

“That is YOUR general, Captain, and you will show him some respect!” Wolffe snarled back. Leo lunged for the gap, chains just short.

The fight of words was like watching two greater lothcats bicker before the fur flew. Plo sighed and went for the door’s keypad, overriding the lock and suddenly Leo was there, in full view of this Jedi and General he hated, able to really try to get them.

He did not. As Plo expected the hostility was a fear reaction and Leo bolted for a wall to keep his back protected. Plo approached him with his head high, despite Wolffe’s warnings and Flare’s high-pitched whine. “You know what I am. Maybe that sensitive nose tells you what I am capable of.” Plo folded his hands behind his back, leaving himself open and completely in range. “Maybe your fear is justified, then, given what some Jedi did to their troops. I know of Krell.” A low snarl. “I know what happened on Kamino to unwanted troopers. They put you down like animals.” Leo took a warning step forward, eyes burning. “I will not atone of things I did not do. But I should have done more to stop them. Regardless. I am your General. The rest of the Wolfpack has accepted me. Unity brings forth peace.”

“They left us here to ROT. Put down like an animal… That’d be better than watching Flare rot his life away in here.” Leo’s words were ruffled by a snarl, and he twisted his wrists into his cuffs to keep himself in check. Plo could see other scars. He stepped forward. Leo flashed teeth and lunged…

A flat, leathery palm caught his face in a vice grip, only allowing him to bite the pad of flesh below the clawed fingers. Plo’s blood welled in his teeth but the position wouldn’t let him any closer, give any more flesh to tear.

The second hand whipped around as a blur of brown mottled skin and he expected to be killed. The cuffs dropped to the floor, unlocked by a trick of the force. He was free, free after how long! And yet… He stayed there, in the Jedi’s palm, releasing the skin and thinking. The blood tasted acrid and yet he licked the wound like any animal would to clean it. It sealed shut with soft hisses, and left his tongue raw.

Wolffe was less than happy with this, but at least Leo wasn’t tearing himself apart anymore. “Sir?”

“I’m perfectly fine. The Captain and I have reached a tolerant understanding.” He chuckled as Leo backed off, standing there, unsure what to do with his freedom. “It seems that your men enjoy this.” The ball, produced from his sleeve. Leo tracked it. “Perhaps you would like to be with your men. I had an idea.”

 

The ball thrower was a hit, after two destroyed models and one that wasn’t fast enough for them. Leo did not participate right now, spending time teaching the younger of their unit about how to clean out their cheek scars properly lest they get infections.

He did not let Plo close, but Plo watched anyways from a single-footed perch on the observation balcony and met his eyes from time to time. Wolffe donated some treadmills from the ship’s gym, figuring most of his boys liked to foot it on the track around the edge of the ship anyways.

Fights broke out, but muzzles kept everything less violent and self-policeable.

Unlike the others, Flare stuck close to Wolffe and Plo. Wolffe mentioned something about imprinting on an alpha-figure, but Plo thought it was because he liked having that wild red hair scratched. Like anooba hounds they were, vicious and loyal. With time Plo figured they’d join the ranks, and maybe, finally see a compound much more open and built to their needs than this one.

For the moment, Plo just enjoyed seeing them as free as they could be, and the oozing loyalty from his Commander and Flare beside him.


End file.
